


Imagine: Answering Castiel's call for help when he believed no one was listening and finding him grievously injured.

by webcricket



Series: Castiel Imagines [51]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket





	Imagine: Answering Castiel's call for help when he believed no one was listening and finding him grievously injured.

> Woozy, wakefulness slamming into him in the same instant his forehead knocks the glass of the passenger window, Castiel rouses. Trees and a highway verged in weeds rush beyond the glass. The groan gurgling in his throat converges into words as his blurry focus slants sideways. “Y/N?” he croaks, swallowing the shards of dry disuse coating his vocal chords, surprise aerates his tone. “I thought you were-”
> 
> “Dead?” You return his glance with a glimmer of a smile dimpling your cheeks. Your vessel’s face warms at the stretch of disused muscle, glad to see the light restored to his eyes and the renewing glow of his gravely diminished grace. It’s been long since you smiled, longer still since Castiel was the cause. Returning your regard to the road, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel, you answer the unspoken query narrowing his lids into a squint. “That’s what I wanted the others to believe. Uriel, Raphael, Zachariah, Bartholomew, Anna, Balthazar, Joshua, Gadreel, Hannah, Metatron-”
> 
> Stomach churning bile, a combination of regret and his weakened state making him vulnerable to his vessel’s emotionally responsive frailty, his head swims. Grasping at the door to slow the spinning of the cabin as you list the names of your fallen kin, he gasps, “Enough!”
> 
> “-they’re _dead_. Destroyed because they were too greedy, too righteous, or too blind to see the writing on the wall.” They were your brothers and sisters, his as well; and now you’re going extinct and threatened with the fall of Heaven itself. You’ve made your point, perhaps more bitterly than intended. You didn’t answer his prayer for help to quarrel.  “I’m sorry,” your voice softens. “It’s been a while, Castiel.” 
> 
> Breath rasping, burying himself deeper into the seat in a grounding effort, a chuckle crackles his lungs. It’s nothing he doesn’t deserve to hear, nor are they thoughts foreign to his own personal reckoning of events. He’s happy to see you, too. Happy for the honest assessment of a friend. “A millennia at least.” A small smile betrays his stoicism.
> 
> “At least.” You huff a laugh. “What I meant to say was I think there’s an argument to be made that anonymity affords a certain level of protection these days for the likes of us. Not that you would know anything about anonymity, you seem to have a pathological attachment to the front line and the Winchesters.”
> 
> His scruff glazed chin bobs, half in concurrence and half in chase of a once more fleeting clasp on consciousness. “They need protecting,” he murmurs. “I have faith in them.”
> 
> “And I have faith in _you_.” You slide a hand to cap his knee.
> 
> Looking down at where your fingers lightly squeeze his leg, he lifts a palm to splay his fingers over yours, asking, “Is that why you saved me?”
> 
> “Your story, it isn’t over yet. Not on the whim of some second rate demon with the advantage of surprise leaving you to bleed grace in an alley until you ceased to be. This world needs you. The Winchesters need you.” You look over, see the pale lids lowered, thick lashes dusting the dark hollows below shuttered blue eyes in a dreamless, restorative, sleep. You add, in a sigh beneath your breath, “And I need you; our story, it’s barely begun.”


End file.
